The next day, Janto heard voices outside his cell door. He was strong enough now to sit up. The door to his cell was solid iron from the ground to about waist height. From there to the ceiling it was iron bars through which he had some visibility, but he was chained into a corner where he couldn’t get much of a view. He stretched to the full length of his chains, trying to see out.
“Is that the one? The spy we caught at the docks?”
Gods curse it, he couldn’t see who was speaking. That was a new voice, male, and it sounded vaguely familiar. In the short time he’d been conscious, Janto had learned most of the guards’ voices.
“Yes, that’s the one.” That was Janto’s guard, the one who’d brought him breakfast.
“When’s he scheduled for interrogation?”
“A few hours,” said the guard.
Janto shivered. Interrogation in a few hours. Lovely.
“I want to see him before you mess him up,” said the new voice.
“As you please,” said the guard.
The key rattled in the lock. Janto stopped contorting himself in an effort to see and retreated to a more natural position on his bench. The door opened. Lucien, the Imperial Heir, limped in on his crutch, looked at Janto, and did a double take. He turned back to the guard. “He’s not Sardossian.”
“No, he’s Mosari,” called the guard from outside the cell. “You didn’t know?”
“I do now,” said Lucien. “He’s a shroud mage, isn’t he? Where’s his familiar?”
“Never found,” said the guard. “It jumped into the ocean, and since he became visible while the guards were holding him, they think it drowned.”
“You can’t assume that. It might have gone out of range, or he may have made himself visible on purpose. He could have his magic right now, and if he does, he can make the familiar invisible. Send for a dog and search his cell. Search the entire prison. In the meantime, bring me a chair. I’ll speak to him.”
The guard gave a hoarse laugh. “Good luck getting anything out of him, Your Imperial Highness. He’s silent as snowfall. You want him to talk, wait a few hours and we’ll light him up for you.”
Lucien’s eyes bored into Janto’s. “I can be persuasive.”
Janto stared back impassively.
The guard brought a wooden chair into the cell. Lucien turned the chair backward and straddled it. After the guard had left, closing the door, Lucien said, “I know you.”
Janto said nothing. He saw no reason to offer this man information for free.
“I wasn’t expecting to find
No response.
“Here’s what I’d like to know,” continued Lucien. “Rhianne conspired with you on something relatively innocent—this plot to punish the slave overseer for his abuse of the slave women. But did she know she was working with a Mosari spy?”
Janto continued his silent stare. Why would he incriminate Rhianne?
“You think you’re clever by not talking to me,” said Lucien. “Here’s why you should rethink that strategy. I’m a powerful man, and I can stop your interrogation from happening. You and I are enemies—we need not pretend otherwise. But in one matter, I believe our interests are aligned. We both care about Rhianne. Am I correct in that assertion?”
After a long pause, Janto said, “Yes.”
“That was quite a trick you played on Augustan, with the enemy ward. I congratulate you.”
A clumsy attempt at building rapport. Janto ignored it.
Lucien rolled his eyes. “I hate one-sided conversations. So, in the matter of Rhianne’s welfare we are allies, and I will share with you something concerning her that you do not know. She is about to be captured. We’ve narrowed the search radius to a fifty-mile area in central eastern Kjall, and I believe she will be in the hands of the authorities within the next forty-eight hours. You may think fifty miles is a large area, but believe me, with our resources it is small. And Rhianne is making mistakes. She’s giving away money to the village children, and we’re tracking her through that.”
“Rhianne has a big heart.” It pained Janto that her generosity should be her undoing.
“I love her, but sometimes she lets her compassion override her good sense.” Lucien rested his chin on the chair back. “If it were up to me, I’d let her go. I don’t want this marriage for her any more than you do. But my power doesn’t extend that far. All I can do is minimize the harm that will befall her when she is captured. Do you follow me?”
Janto nodded.
“If, in the course of your interrogation, it comes out that you and Rhianne conspired together, and that she knew you were a spy, that is going to be an enormous problem for her because that would be treason. I personally don’t care if Rhianne committed treason, because I know that Rhianne is a woman of compassion and integrity. If she did such a thing, however ill-advised, it was because she believed it was right. The emperor . . . would be more concerned about it than I, but he’d still prefer to cover it up. He wants to marry Rhianne off to Augustan, not bring her up on treason charges. However, if the rest of the palace finds out—and they will, if you confess it in your interrogation—neither Florian nor I will be able to protect her from the scandal that will follow. If that’s the situation we’re dealing with, the only way I can protect Rhianne is to
Janto swallowed. Did he trust this man? Perhaps he should. Rhianne trusted him, and Lucien was making sense. “Rhianne knew I was a spy, though it was never her intent to commit treason. She threatened repeatedly to turn me in if I didn’t leave the country.”
“But she never followed through,” said Lucien.
“No. She didn’t want to see me tortured to death.”
“Typical Rhianne. That’s all I needed.” Lucien rose from his chair and picked up his crutch. “Congratulations. Since your testimony would incriminate her, you just got out of your interrogation. But I can’t save you from execution.” He headed for the door, then stopped midstride, his eyes widening. “You know what? Maybe I can. Don’t get excited—I don’t know if it will work.” Opening the door, he called for the guard. “Has his writ been sent up?”
“No,” said the guard.
“Alter it,” said Lucien. “Cancel the interrogation. This man is not to be questioned under any circumstances. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly, Your Imperial Highness.”
“As for his execution, put it on hold. I’ve a potential use for him. Just keep him here for a while, and I’ll be in touch.”
Rhianne was resting her horse, letting him walk on a long rein, when she heard the rhythm of hoofbeats approaching from up ahead. Three horses came over the rise at a trot, each carrying a man in military dress. Their bridles and saddles were trimmed in white, and the soldiers wore the insignias from White Star battalion, but no blood marks. They were enlisted men, which meant they had no magic and were no threat.
She touched each man’s mind in turn and dropped a suggestion:
Her tired chestnut gelding ambled along. Rhianne was hot and cold at the same time, sweating in the places where she was in contact with the horse while her ears and nose had gone numb from the morning’s chill. She eyed the three riders as they passed alongside her.
Then the far rider broke ranks and cantered toward her. In a panic and uncertain of the soldier’s intentions, she projected more suggestions at him.
